


Ambivalence

by namjoonwae



Category: GOT7
Genre: (un)requited love, Angst, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nothing too extreme, References to Alcohol, References to Smoking, Self Confidence Issues, also debuted moments, how does one tag, i figured it out, jark, literally so much angst tho who even am i, lost/confused feelings, markson, mentioning of self harm, predebut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:54:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5665186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/namjoonwae/pseuds/namjoonwae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when he looks at you, he sees the stars. when you look at him, you see the whole galaxy.</p><p>(or, the one in which jackson reflects on the memories of his and mark's relationship throughout the years).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memories

**Author's Note:**

> *Cross posted on AFF and Wattpad*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the chapter in which jackson starts to realize how things have really changed.

you can't believe that it's turned out this way. that's what you chant, at three o'clock in the morning, on a gloomy sunday, when there's rain pounding on the windows, the tv softly playing in the room opposite to add to the drowning effect -

and you think, when did everything start to fall? you didn't see the way he looked at you, like something had changed - briefly and suddenly, so small that you hadn't even noticed it yet yourself.

you hate it. you hate the way that he looks at you, the way he taunts you, the way that everything has seemed to shatter yet at the same time build itself up in the best way possible.

you think back to how it was before this. before the debut. before the fans. before the ships, before the skinship moments, before the contract was signed that would change your life forever.

and just. you love the boys. your boys. you really do. you may not be the leader (which, given, jaebum is a much better leader than you would've ever been. try as you might, you're not as affectionate, not as dependent, not as helpful to the other members as you could've - should've been), but you try, and they all know that.

(sometimes you wonder if they need you in the group at all).

you shake your head, soft tufts of straight, dyed bleach blonde hair falling into your eyes. your body is aching, your heart pounding, and if he wasn't here to keep you steady, then you know that you would've been lost a while ago, completely gone from reality.

while he keeps you steady, he also keeps you unbalanced. on your toes. he may not be the most wild and courageous person ever, but he keeps you where you need to be - something that even you yourself aren't exactly sure of nowadays.

he keeps you locked to actuality, whenever and wherever that might be - at the dorm, at the studio, wherever the hell life decides to drag and carry you to.

and it's just. he's always there. he's a constant in your life that you've had since the groups debuting days, and even before that. you trained together, worked hard together, ate well together whenever possible.

you know each other's families, of school and accomplishments. of friends that were, of passions and dreams that may or may not still exist, of likings and dislikings - there is not one thing that you can think of that you don't know about each other.

keeping that in mind, it's strange how much you're aware of this enigma of a person. he's so different from you, such an opposite that it's a shock that you two became such good friends in the first place.

he's so quiet, yet his presence is loud. if there's one thing that mark is it's contradictory, yet you find that you don't mind at all. this piece of information is what makes mark mark, your best friend, your ally in the group.

the one person that you can always rely on, no matter what.

so when he cradles you in his arms, the feeling shaky and unkempt, you can't help but look into his eyes - those perfect, dark clouded eyes that don't shine nearly as much as they used to.

(you deserve the world, you want to say. but i already have you, is his unspoken reply).

it's not the same thing. you know that this is just in the spur of the moment, that in the morning this will all go back to usual. you'll go back to the studio with the others, go back to playing pretend, go back to being grateful that these opportunities are what you've been given the chance with - which really, you are; eternally grateful for what you've given the chance to do. but

you're so tired of it already, and the comeback it still months away.

life as an idol never stops. you may get breaks every now and then, but this life isn't meant to be a light switch, an 'on' and 'off'. you love making music, but not feeling like there's no space, no oxygen left to breathe.

that's not what you signed up for.

but yet, somehow it was. and you knew that. but you still went for it, your dream overtaking any other emotion and inkling of common sense that you possessed at that meeting so long ago.

it's not like you regret your decision. you love what's come from the signing - the debut - you love the group, the other boys that are always there with you through anything and everything.

you love the fans that are always there, loving and supporting the seven of you, some from the very beginning, some not - it doesn't matter.

you wouldn't be here without them.

and even though things might get tiring and mundane sometimes, you love that there are other people there to encourage and relate to you.

you sigh, tucking your head into his shoulder, breathing in the scent that is so mark - lilac mixed with a hint of vanilla, something so comforting that you find your eyes falling second after second.

you feel his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and for a moment, you feel at home.

~

it isn't fair. the way that he looks at you, the way that he holds you so tightly, so protectively, almost as if he's afraid that if he lets you go, you'll shatter. and you want to tell him, to say that you're not a damn doll, that you won't break simply because he lets you go.

but you also want to tell him to stay, to hold you so tightly that you won't ever have to be without him. you love the way that he makes you feel watched over, like you have someone to take care of you for once, and not the other way around.

(just hold me tight, and never let go, you want to say. isn't that what i always do anyway? is his unspoken response).

it isn't fair. you feel as if you're not good enough for him, that you can't give him the love that he rightfully deserves - and after everything that you've been through together, you find yourself wondering how you think that way in the first place.

logical thinking hasn't always been your forte. you tend to go off of spontaneous thoughts, which is evident through interviews and live broadcasts alike. always the first one to joke or make an unnecessary silly comment, always the first to lighten the mood as much as possible if the moment goes south.

mark is much better at reasoning. he thinks things through, quickly and easily accessing the situation, something that you've admired about him since you met all of those years ago. he's so good at reading people, especially when it comes to you.

you swear that sometimes he can see into your soul. or that he can read your mind. either way, he knows way too much of how your feeling and thinking constantly.

in a way, this scares you. in another, this brings a comfort that you cannot even begin to explain.

~

you are nineteen, and he's twenty. you're just two broken boys in seoul, waiting, waiting until the moment that your lives are signed away forever.

a week from now, is what your manager has told you.

the 16th of January.

you look at him, the way that his hands shake briefly, his eyes focused on the night surrounding you. it's dark, the stars punctuating the night with their bright continuations.

you wonder if he thinks about what you're both giving up. in a week, just in seven days that now seem like an eternity, neither of you will ever get this simple freedom again. you still can't decipher whether that's a good thing or not. and you're excited, yet you're scared, unsure, unwilling to put much thought into what will change between now and then. everything is going so perfectly, you don't want change. but this is your dream. you knew that everything had to be put on the line if you wanted this to work.

so you came to this foreign land two and a half years ago, chasing a dream that was unconfirmed, tentative in every way possible. you met him, and everything seemed to click. he's skilled, so talented that you yourself are shocked that he can't see himself in the way that you do.

he's meant for this. to be a star. an idol. he can go far and wide with what he does, no matter what it may be. he shines in an atypical, tranquil form, not even noticing the effect that he has on you. (and soon to be millions of others, you're absolutely sure of it).

he looks over at you, and you see the burning longing in his eyes. you know that you share the same dream. you know that you want the same things. but the way that he's looking at you makes you want to latch onto him, to stay in this moment forever.

your hands are loosely tied together, his warmth radiating off of his body and onto yours. you want to tell him everything that you've thought of while sitting there, but you can't bring yourself to speak. just simply being with him is enough.

but when he opens his mouth to share with you his self doubts, his voice laced with insecurities of what's to come, you have to shush him, to say something that will stop his unneeded, untrue ramblings.

"i'm ordinary. i'm not good enough."

the words make your heart shatter, and you look at him with such an intensive, passionate look that you wonder if you even need to say anything at all. but you do, because mark is mark, and you will try to protect and comfort him no matter what.

"you're magnificent. extraordinary. you're going to take this world by storm, i know it."

his eyes flicker, his mouth pulls up at the sides, and soon enough you're both smiling at each other. you know that you've said the right thing.

you watch as the sun begins to rise, shocked that the both of you spent the whole night out on the roof of the dorm. for some reason it doesn't occur to you to be concerned about how tired you're going to be later, of how difficult choreography is going to be to keep up with, or of how long you're going to have to sit in the makeup chairs as the stylist noonas try to cover up your bags and fatigue.

you got to spend time with the one person that you want to spend forever with, and that's all that can seem to matter to you. and you continue to sit on the roof, the sun beckoning the beginning of a new day, a new life, and you shake your head, a soft sigh on your lips.

when he looks at you in question, the only thing that you can think to say is

"it's the end."

his laugh is breathless, his purely white, striking smile on full display. he holds your hand closer to his, and just as easily replies

"jackson, it's just the beginning."

~

the debut stage is everything and nothing like you expected it to be. the lights are bright, the cameras on high definition, watching your every move.

and as you stand there, the nerves that you were doing such a good job at controlling are now on hyper drive, and all you can feel is the pressure. the undying reality of all of this, the constant thoughts of what if, what if. and he knows. it's so ridiculous how well he knows.

he catches your attention effortlessly, and all that you have to do is look at him for a moment to feel calm again. this dependency is not what rattles you, what does is the simple fact that he's become such an important part of your life so quickly, so aimlessly, that now you cannot imagine your life without him.

~

his rapping makes you feel alive. his singing makes you feel astonished. his laughter makes you feel content, almost as if nothing could ever possibly put you in harms way. his mindless chatter as you two are bickering back and forth about something makes you feel trusted, as odd as that may sound. 

his fluent, well flowing english makes your heart stop - and really, no matter what language he's speaking, every syllable that pours from his lips sound delightful, even if he has to stumble over his words every so often. 

his looks are indescribable, to the point of which you've questioned whether he's actually a human being or not. no one can look this flawless all of the time, it's not possible. but there he is, shining in his inhuman fashion, even in the less dressed of outfits; he could be in unflattering sweats, a big over sized jacket hanging off of his body, ratty and torn shoes laced onto his feet - and you would still swear that he is the most beautiful thing that you've ever seen.

he's so perfect that he makes you feel small, so utterly ordinary when you stand next to him.

you're proud of everything that he's accomplished. whether it be something small, or something big, every little action is taken into consideration. you love when he smiles after getting a dance move down correctly, or when he sings his part onstage perfectly balanced and blended, or when he's simply dancing and singing along to the radio on a day off, his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyes lit up with the happiness and prosperity that he deserves -

no matter when or where, you always love his smile. 

he deserves to have that look on him for the rest of his life.

~

the memories hit you like a freight train, and suddenly you're pulled back to the present day, where you're still in his hold, the of the clock near the window sill 'tick tick'ing away the limited time that you have together. 

suddenly all that you can think of is the happiness that you've been through together, and you figure that that is enough. you don't need to be in everlasting bliss, you've realized that that's not how life works. you take what you can get, in moments that you can, and go for opportunities that you want to (that may or may not change your life forever.)

you're not exactly the sentimental type. you're not good with words. they always seem to trip and fall over you, even in the most needed of times. but you've noticed that sometimes silence is needed to fill the void, and in some situations, silence seems to work the same trick just as well as words can.

so when he whispers you name, somewhere in between drowning and taking the time to simply breathe, you look up, and when you see the same eye crinkling smile reach across his face as before everything started to fall, you feel shocked. 

and happy.

and confused. 

your emotions have never balanced each other out, no matter what was influencing them. you've learned to just roll with it. feeling everything all at once is better than feeling nothing at all. (you'd like to think, anyway).

"I love you."

and it's not like he hasn't said these words before. you've heard them plenty of times. but now, now it seems to hold a different meaning. 

something has shifted, and while you're not exactly sure of the consequences, or of what's yet to come, you are forever unlimited to expectations that the world has seemed to offer you. 

he doesn't mean them in the same way that you do. but you can't help yourself from smiling back at him, reaching forward to clasp your hand within his, pulling your bodies together in a firm hold that you were sure at one point was going to be unbreakable. 

you say the words in return, hushed and quiet, although you know that your true feelings aren't fully returned. he doesn't seem to notice, just hums into your hair, closing his eyes willfully, seemingly the picture of absolute happiness. 

when he looks at you, he sees the stars. when you look at him, you see the whole galaxy. 

this doesn't bother you. you're perfectly okay with what the two of you have, this messy, uncontrolled bond that you've maintained since the very beginning. you're not going to blame him because of what's happened, because you've both been in the wrong. everything is okay now, and after a while, you begin to think (again) that everything will always be okay if you just have him by your side. 

after all, it's not his fault that the stars aligned differently within him than they aligned within you.


	2. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the chapter in which jackson realizes that happiness is the key.

ah, right. the past is never quite as good as your memory makes it seem, is that correct?

you can't help but feel like this saying (no matter how butchered and disagreed with it can be) describes the situation perfectly. the words can go on for forever, an endless rambling of letters mashed together, and you feel as if they would resemble your life in the most faultless way possible.

you can't decide if that hinders or helps your spirit.

(you can't decide on a lot of things. that's beside the point).

the boys are all around you, bouncing off of the walls with excitement, something that you have forced yourself to keep up with since the beginning of the day. not that that's all that difficult, not with him smiling at you, glancing through his bottled red colored mess of hair, laughing at something that someone had said, his witty comments in response that only pass through his lips when he's most comfortable.

you forget for a moment. of how difficult this will soon be, of how much work, how much strain the seven of you will have to go through - you're convinced that it'll all be worth it.

you let yourself fall into the category of 'waiting', something that you're not quite used to yet. you're one of those people that when you want something, you go for it immediately, against all odds; waiting is not something that you're keen on doing.

(you let yourself fall into the category of 'happy'. the group, the seven of you have gained so much already, and you're just getting started. you know that you should just let all of you worries go, there's no point to worrying since it isn't going to do anything anyway. you're exactly where you should be, with who you should be with, and that's all that you need. 'happy' has never seemed so easy.)

he pulls you into a tight hug, one that's sudden, unexpected by the both of you, it seems, if the way that his heart stops for a moment, something that you can feel through the thin material of your shirts; in the way that a startled laugh erupts from just over your shoulder, the palms of his hands curling around your body in a familiar, welcoming hold.

(you don't stop to think about what else these actions could mean. in hindsight, maybe you should be more insightful than you are. but jackson wang is many things, and insightful has never been a word to describe you, even in the most obvious of situations).

you let yourself be held by him, and the world around you stops. time does not seem to exist, it's like your soul has been lifted from your body, your thoughts creating a road map into what could be, what should be. the warmth that he radiates is enough for your shivering body to melt, and you find yourself wishing that the two of you could stay in each other's hold for the rest of your lives.

but too soon is the feeling gone, as he retracts his arms from around you, and you feel as though your happiness level has dropped substantially. you don't want to feel this way, like your well-being is so dependent on another person, like you can't be happy unless everything is going just as you want it to.

he smiles at you, just a brief rise of the sides of his mouth, something that wouldn't have been noticeable to anyone else but you, yourself. you've known him for years now, you know his personality like the back of your hand. you know his expressions pretty well also, if this moment is a testimony for that.

you return the gesture, letting your hands fall back to your sides. you decide not to question the way that his gaze flickers, something falling inbetween the look of fond and doting affection that was just shared between the two of you.

youngjae pulls your attention from him, his bubbly, infectious laugh twinkling into the worn-in living room that the seven of you are currently settled in. in the background you hear mark being stolen away by bambam, the young thai boy joking about one thing or another to his hyung. jaebum, junior and yugyeom are all off in their own little world, enjoying each other's company, and as you talk to youngjae about anything and everything that comes to mind, you feel a light feeling sink into your stomach that has you questioning why you were worried about anything in the first place.

~

when deciding rooms, you were originally supposed to be placed with junior; something that neither of you minded, as you got along fine, and seemed to have a lot of things in common. then as the time approached to actually move into the dorm, the rooming between the two of you flunctuated, and you almost got placed with jaebum. when the seven of you finally moved into the dorm a couple of weeks later, it was officially decided that you would share a room with mark.

a sigh of relief had passed through your lips, your heart deciding to choose that specific time to flutter and nearly burst as you thought about sharing a room with him. you wanted to tell yourself to get over it, you're just sharing a room, that doesn't mean that it's actually going to go anywhere. that's what you try to tell yourself, anyway, but it seems as though your heart and your mind were not agreeing, and your internal reaction to the news stayed practically the same for the rest of that day.

the feeling is still the same, although now you've been rooming together for a while, and the timing of actually being able to stay and sleep in the room is becoming slimmer and slimmer as the days go on. promoting has started, and the seven of you are on a repeat of work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep.

(not much actual sleeping goes on. your mind feels clouded, your limbs heavy, and if the implications of the previous disorganized mess of the day is anything to go by, then the other six members feel the same way as you do, also).

you look up at the ceiling, willing yourself to fall into an endless, dreamless sleep. you pull the covers up over your head, trying to get in the most comfortable position that you could possibly be in. fifteen minutes later, and still nothing. it's like your mind has decided that it's just gone 'nope, no sleep for jackson tonight. better luck next time.'

but your mind can't do that, because you have so much to do tomorrow, and if you don't get the sleep that you need, then you won't get anything done, and you'll feel terrible for slowing the other members down. you can't let that happen, not again.

"you always think so loudly. come here."

the seven words are spoken so calmly, and it doesn't surprise you that he knows exactly what you're going through. it seems that he can't sleep, either.

tugging the blankets off of yourself, you settle your body upwards, seizing your body weight off of the bed, padding your feet across the carpeted floor towards the older boy's bed. you can't see anything in the darkness of the room, no light reflecting off of anything to be able to tell you exactly where he is, no sounds to indicate the presence that he so firmly holds.

and yet you slip yourself into the bed, beside the other person in the room that you can't see but can feel, and that's all that you need to feel ten times more tired (and protected, loved, but you let those thoughts seep through your brain, deeming them unimportant, insignificant.)

he winds his arms around you, and there's that feeling again. but your mind is too sleep deprived, too heavy to really think about the feeling that's blossoming within your heart.

you let your eyes fall, and all you see is darkness, all you feel is his warmth and his tender lips on the top of your head, his hair falling onto your forehead -

you're lulled to sleep in less than a minute.


	3. Feeling at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the chapter in which jackson reflects on who he is, and what he feels like when he's with mark. he chalks it up to the feeling of being at home.

you feel at home when you're with him. you know that sounds like an over used, washed out cliche, but you cannot deny the sense of comfort that immediately washes over you whenever he's near. he reminds you of hong kong, something familiar, something that doesn't exactly add up to you, even in your mind, but you have long accepted the fact that not everything 'adds up', nor does everything have to 'make sense'.

(lately, nothing has made sense. you decide that this is okay, and move on).

you're staring at the back of his head, his hair up in a tassled mess of red and hair spray - the chemicals obtained in the soft strands mean nothing, as he runs his hands through his hair out of nervous habit, rattling and shaking off the dyed colored annoyance that's been in his eyes for the whole day. 

your thoughts as of the past couple of weeks have only happened to be about him. and this is usual, but the sudden feeling of your heart pounding, breath shrinking in the slightest (yet noticeable) way, is not. you're driving yourself insane, going around in circles that you cannot even begin to actually put much thought into. 

you've never questioned who you are. you're jackson wang, the funny, athletic, smart, talkative, cheerful person that you believe yourself to be, and you always have been. or well, you thought, anyway. other people would describe you with these adjectives, you know because you've asked them; add 'curious' to that list, as well. there are many things to describe you, things that you were once so sure of, but now the words are daunting on you, shifting your self confidence and self worth to the edge, a feeling that you've heard a lot about, never wanted, but eventually got stuck with, anyway.

the interview then begins, making your mind go from self doubt to self awareness. you're suddenly thinking about how you look, if you're making the right facial expression for the camera, if you're talking loudly enough, being funny enough, being enough of the happy, bubbly side of yourself that the fans are used to knowing. and this is how you genuinely are, most of the time; you just wish that people would see that you too are human, despite being an idol, k-pop star, jackson wang. there's much more to you than that, something that the fans may or may not ever see, and you're not sure which way would be better. 

(you wish that they would see that you have emotions and feelings, too. you're not a robot. you're not a porcelain doll set up to be clawed at by the industry. you eventually get worn down just like everyone else does, something that others seem to forget from time to time).

the interviewer suddenly startles you out of your introspection, saying something that you didn't quite catch, and when she calls your name again, restating her question in a more firm tone this time, you feel like your body freezes on impact. 

"so, jackson. it looks like you've got a new love interest, hm?" 

the question is very direct, something that you're not quite expecting. the other members turn to look at you, each giving wide eyed expressions, flickers of different emotions lacing through their eyes as they continue to stare, waiting for an answer. your thoughts are on hyperdrive, and you think that you see a flash of hurt pang in mark's appearance, something that you try your best not to focus on. 

the interviewer must be talking about seulgi, a friend of yours that you just so happened to hang out with before this weekend. both of your schedules are usually jam packed, so when the opportunity came up to go be around a friend that you haven't seen in a while - of course you had to take it. you didn't consider the press putting more thought into it than that.

('straight' is also a word that describes you. one that the public has pushed on you, anyway. with the way that you've been feeling lately, you can't say that the word relates to you in the slightest.)

"she's just a friend."

you say the simple four word answer, not willing to elaborate any further. the interviewer looks like she doesn't believe you, looking taken aback for a moment, but doesn't question further; she gives you a side glance, then moves on to pestering the other members, and you sigh quietly, happy that she didn't push the subject any more than necessary. 

(not that that question was necessary in the first place. they just like knowing that they can shake you up, is all. it's working.)

~

the seven of you get back to the dorm, and the air in the room is almost quiet, silent except for the untying of shoes and peeling off of jackets. things have shifted since the interview, and now all that you want to do is go back to your and mark's room and sleep for the rest of the day. so that is what you do, after you change into something more comfortable - sweats and a dark blue t-shirt, your hair ruffled, the blonde becoming more like waves at the end. 

you lay down on your bed, curling around the soft warmth of the blankets, the crashing feeling hitting you all at once. before long you feel your eyes slowly close, your breathing leveling out, and soon you're in a dreamless sleep that absorbs you for hours. 

~

he isn't the same as he used to be. your thoughts run rapidly, tripping over themselves, new ideas and information passing through your brain every second of the day. you want the questioning sinking feeling of uncertainty to stop; you don't want to have to analyze every little thing that comes up between you two. but the way that he's been acting lately has you ticking boxes of uncharacteristic qualities that all add up to a new side of him; a side that you're not sure of whether to be thankful or inappreciative towards.

people grow. that's one of the most basic, realistic life lessons that you have learned. but when a person grows too fast, too uncertainly, too recklessly - that's when problems can start to arise. you feel them bubbling up within the group, at first just little things like bickering more than usual, or the occasional biting comment towards each other. this soon blossoms to actual arguing, choreography lessons left uncompleted because the members simply cannot stand to be around each other. and you don't argue, just go with the flow of things, trying to maintain the image that you're supposed to - careless, happy - as you continue to talk and act around the other members in public as you usually do. or did, before things started to turn like they had. 

(people change. he changed. you find that you're not willing to let yourself fully believe this yet, even though you know that it's true).

he's still your best friend. things may be rocky between the two of you, and the clash of the bottle on the table may mean something more than you're willing to admit, and the words that have chased after the both of you late at night may be more poisonous than you'd like to think - but he's still you're safe haven, someone that you can't bear to let out of your life, someone that you cling to desperately in the hopes that something, anything will become like it was before. 

~

he kisses you with languid. his lips on yours feels like electricity, coursing through your body, creating sparks in its wake. his tongue tastes like a mixture of peppermint, alcohol and nicotine, and while you hate that he's been consumed by these habits, you also cannot deny that the taste strikes something different within you. you will the thoughts out of your mind, focusing on the connection that you two are sharing. 

you hope that you won't regret this in the morning. or that he won't. neither, if you're lucky enough. 

he traces the pattern of your skin, slipping your shirt over your body, pulling your pants down past your knees and onto the floor, grabbing the little bottle off of the dresser, then makes his way towards you again. you let yourself be consumed by him, and when he pushes in, you find yourself lost with ecstasy, liking the feeling of just letting go for once. you let him take the reigns, let yourself fall quickly and dauntingly behind him. 

(in the morning you wake up alone, your lower body aching in the best yet worst ways possible. you find mark in the living room, talking to the others, and when you make eye contact, it becomes clear what he's thinking. you don't talk to each other for the rest of the day).

~

you lean across the balcony, letting your muscles relax, your worries drop, and your mind slow down. it's been a while since you've actually been by yourself, and while you love the other boys, you like your alone time, too. so there you stand, in the warmth of the summer, outside of the house that contains a party that Amber has thrown annually since the beginning of her career. you're staring at the stars, letting their beauty pronounce itself as much as it's wanted to; they have a lot of it to accommodate. 

(the stars also hold supposed secrets, supposed fates, which you find beautiful, but cause your mind to reel on a daily basis. would you have still met mark if you both didn't decide to take a chance, and defy the possibilities? if he would've stayed in california, and you in hong kong? the two worlds are an ocean away, seemingly unreachable towards each other, and you are eternally thankful that the stars aligned so that you met him - and youngjae, bambam, jaebum, jinyoung and yugyeom, too. you love them all to death, and probably will continue to love them even after that, also.)

your presence is placed beside another person, and you look down from the sky to see him standing there, his gaze landing on you. he seems to be debating something, before he opens his mouth to speak, the words trailing into the air to be heard for the both of you. 

"do you regret?" 

the question seems to have multiple meanings. and yet the answer is still the same no matter what context it's used in. 

"no."

the response leaves your mouth without even having to think about it, and your eyes are drawn to the way that his lips trace upward, leaving a certain twinkle in his eyes that haven't been approached (nor seen) in a while. he comes closer to you, and when his lips meet yours, you can only describe the feeling as being like water and fire meeting, conjoining together. 

so different yet so alike. maybe the two of you were made from the same star, after all.


	4. Tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one in which Jackson becomes unsure of who he is, and mark tells a few confessions.

you stare at your reflection, looking at the bland way that your hair lays, the soft strands turning into somewhat of a mess, with all of the dying that's been traced throughout it during the last couple of months. 

your eyes stick out in an odd angle, the color that laces around the dark, intense pupils being a laxed shade of brown, with none of the usual spark in them as they usually hold. 

you've always been in shape, your body well muscled and toned with how many sports and fencing activities you took part in when you were younger. (and take part in even now, also, when you have the time for it. free time doesn't come nearly as often as you would like, but you take what you can get and don't complain out loud nearly as much as you could).

your body doesn't seem as it used to. before you could see the appeal, could see the idea behind why other people would like to look, like to touch at whatever they could get their hands on. you are no saint, but you're definitely not a tease, either. you've been with a few people, all of them girls, but now you're starting to change, something in your mind is shifting, and while you wish you could stop it, you know that that is not how this works. 

now as you stand there and scrutinize yourself, it's kind of like looking at a stranger. you don't know how that's possible, you were so sure of yourself just a few days ago - so sure of who you were, and all that. 

but then that happened, and everything just kind of... fell off. went disarray. whatever you want to call it. 

because now, now when you see yourself you want to hide away, you want to move so that you don't have to see who've become. and you're fine, you really are; you're the same jackson that you used to be, you know that. there's this underlining of doubt that swells deep within yourself, situating itself wherever and whenever it wants. 

you don't like it. (i mean, who would?) you've told yourself to get over it, stop being such a cry baby, you're fine as you are. you believe these words, but it doesn't stop the feeling from bursting every once in a while, leaving you in shambles, a mess that you're not quite sure how to get yourself out of, but do, regardless.

you're alone. the other members are out doing god knows what (you were listening, you really were. you could see jaebum's words forming as he spoke, but nothing registers within your mind like it used to. you nod when you see the movement of his lips stop, and respond that you just want to stay at the dorm by yourself. you'll go out with them the next time, you promised).

but now, you wish that you would've gone out with them. being distracted and having some of your favorite people around is something that you should want, something that you do want, but your mind is on autopilot, and according to your brain, you want time alone. 

you hear your phone ping in the background, somewhere inbetween the couch and the side table in the living room. you walk quickly over to it, careful not to make a sound. you're the only one at the dorm, yes, but the silence is too loud, too unusual, and you want something around to keep you grounded. 

you see a text from mark, the letters blurring on the screen for a moment before your eyes focus. it reads that he won't be home tonight, and you don't read any further on from there. you already know what the rest of it says. 

you respond with a simple 'okay', and hope that he makes it home safe the next morning.

~

he does.

somewhat.

he's still wobbly on his feet, his balance uncoordinated (even for his sober standards, which is saying something), his eyes glazed over, a slight tipsy yet appearingly happy smile on his face, and you want to say something, you really do, but. it's mark. he'll come to you if he's having issues, you're sure of it.

(okay, so you're not that sure. the dissapointments that you've been seeing and feeling lately are adding up, and you want to make sure that's he's okay. but he's his own person, he makes his own decisions based on how he wants to, so you stay out of it. it's not your bisuness, but it is the groups bisuness, on most levels).

jaebum and mark got in a fight that night. well alright, not really a fight, i mean, there weren't any punches involved or anything (thankfully, because with the way that things have been going lately you wouldn't be surprised if someone accidently blows their top), but there was a lot of yelling, a few choice words bouncing off the walls and falling on the minds of the other members from their own rooms. 

when mark comes bounding in, about an hour later, his happy expression is gone almost as if it wasn't even there in the first place (and maybe you just imagined it - you just want him to be happy, dammit, and how difficult can that be?), his eyes seeming to have a glazed over look to them now that you can tell isn't from his alcohol intake, but from the sheer onslaught of tears that have been clouding his vision.

he sniffles, and your heart breaks. with everything that he's done to you lately (and that you've done to him, also - you're not exactly the most elegant person when you're fired up, mad to the brink of not even caring anymore about what you say or how you say it), you find the feeling still bubbling inside of you to be sickening. 

he's still mark, still your best friend, but god - how much can one person handle? how much can one person try, again and again, with no break throughs, without giving up somewhere inbetween? how much does one person have to mean to another person for them to put everything on hold for them, to make their happiness your own?

(you realize that you've done all of these things. you're not holding on, yet you're not quite letting go, and his happiness is your own - no matter how stunned or how far in between the emotion might hit him.)

he stands there for a moment, near the door, and for a second it looks like he's going to say something. his mouth closes, eye lids fall shut, and you think that maybe he's going to pass out right then and there. your reflexes are telling you to get up and check on him, shake him until you're sure that he's okay, but you continue to lay on your bed, your hands above your head, gaze fixated on the other in the room.

he moves, and you nearly jump because it's so unexpected, but you manage to stay where you are. he trudges over towards you, sits and then lays down, curling into your body like an affectionate cat. his eyes are still closed, but he maneuvers his arms around you, pulling you close, his chin just above your head, your legs intertwined with each other's. 

you hum, casting a side ways glance at him, not moving. your body is consumed by fire, and the water within you is subsiding, leaving a burning in it's wake.

the tides are with you, once and for all.

~

"i like you."

first confession. hearing these words coming from anyone, especially mark, of all people, makes your heart skip a beat, your cheeks lighting up the moment that the syllables leave his lips. 

"i want to be with you."

second confession. this one causes your mind to race, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest. you can't think back to a time that you were this happy.

"i'm sorry."

third confession. this one causes a sigh to leave your lips, your mind quieting itself for a moment, and you wonder when you got this affected by something that someone has told you. this is mark though, and he's here, now, and he's in his right mind, which doesn't happen that often nowadays - you decide that these words have a different, deeper meaning. 

it seems that this is all that he's able to say, willing to say at this moment, as his words stop, an expected glint in his eyes. he looks at you like you put the moon and the stars in the sky, like your existence is heavenly, like his life is changed forever since he's met you - which, you suppose, it is. or you hope so, because yours is definitely and eternally changed by his coming into your life. 

"it's okay. i like you, and i want to be with you, too. i'm sorry."

what you apologized for exactly, you still don't know. it's not your fault that he comes home like this, drunk off of his mind, nicotine sticking to his jackets, it's not your fault that he decides to be a bit too sharp witted with the other six of you, it's not your fault that he left that one day, it's not your fault, not your fault - 

the feeling of his lips touching yours doesn't stop the thoughts, nor does it stop the constant doubts of what could (and has) happened from this before. 

the feeling doesn't stop the ache, but it does a pretty good job covering for it.


	5. Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one in which Jackson realizes that he'll be okay.

"you should get some help."

you're not sure what made the words escape your lips. one second everything is completely calm; you're sitting there, your feet propped up on the couch, body rolled into a small cacoon, hoodie pulled up around you.

you can't keep it in any longer. your natural instinct is to talk things through, but no one wants to fucking talk anymore; it's like one big monologue, one big facade that contains no communication, no reasoning - nothing to solve problems that you're so obviously facing.

or, that he is facing. 

or, that both of you are facing, if you're to be completely honest with yourself.

the days have been ticking, the performances getting harder and longer, and suddenly you feel drop dead on your feet.

that doesn't stop him. 

you can see how tired he is constantly, can see how his addictions are getting in the way of his dream, and you want to do something to help him. 

(but when you ask him this, if there's anything that you can do, there's a long sigh in response. you don't want to bother him. you conclude in being unhelpful. you can't do anything if he isn't willing to be helped. maybe another day.)

that 'another day' isn't coming nearly as quick as you want it to. 

'another day' could mean the difference between life and death. lately, you wouldn't be surprised if death clashed along beside him and fate, intermingling until there's nothing left to do but crash.

("please don't ever leave me," you said to him, one night, a year and a half ago. his eyes twinkled up at you from where he was sitting, crosslegged on the balcony, and his response seems to come instantly, easily, without a single speck of hesitance. 

"never. i'll always be with you. i promise.")

you wondered if you were always this gullible. god, you hope not. what else have you fallen for without even realizing it?

you don't want to know. 

something's are better off not knowing. 

"i think that you should mind your own bisuness." 

mark's response brings you back to reality, and as you tug your eyes off from the ceiling and down onto him, you swear that you've never seen this look in his eyes before.

they seem to hold a certain animosity that you were sure that mark wasn't even capable of having. not towards anyone, but especially not towards you.

you're tired of him thinking that this doesn't concern you. it may not be your life, and you completely get that, but the group's future depends on all of you, and if one of you screws it up, well. everyone is the group is affected. 

and some things are not fixable. 

you try to get this through his head. he can't act this way. he needs help. 

it's a problem when he walks through the door at three o'clock in the morning, reeking of beer and god knows what else, it's a problem when he can't stand on his own two feet for longer than an hour for practice, it's a problem when everyone in the group is constantly pulled back and forth, arguing now more than ever - 

he needs to understand this. why can't he understand?

the door slams, the walls rattling profusely as the door clatters back onto the platform. 

your head is in your hands. your heart is pounding. you swear that your head cannot be anymore clouded than it already is. 

you're happy that he walked away. 

something's aren't worth the fight. 

~

he holds your hand within his. the touch holds a sort of intimacy that you're not quite used to, but feel like you could get used to, if this were to keep up.

his eyes are glimmering, holding a look of pure joy and unmoving affection, something so tender that it makes your heart stutter in your chest. 

he soon leans over, pushing his nose against yours, something that you recognize as an eskimo kiss. 

you can feel his breath intangling with yours, can feel his body heat up close, can see how his eyelashes single out - 

stop that, you think. i could seriously fall in love with you. 

you don't want to admit this to yourself yet. or at all, for that matter. 

you've known the guy for about six months now, and you swear that you have never felt such an immediate connection with someone else before you met him. 

mark tuan.

someone that you find who actually cares about you, someone who you can relate to, someone who shares the same dreams as you do. 

you need to get over this. this feeling, whatever it is, needs to go as soon as possible. 

this isn't how it works. you don't just meet someone who lived on the other side of the world, then get placed in the same group as them, and then fall in love and live happily ever after.

that isn't how the world works. 

or so, you don't figure, anyway. that seems to be what's happening, although you're not sure about the love part yet. 

(you often think about what would've happened if he would've stayed in california, and you in hong kong. if your path's would've ever overlapped if you weren't given the same opportunity. if you wouldn't have met, if you'd be the same person without him - you highly doubt it. 

the same, maybe. a lot sadder, yes, definitely.)

he pulls away from you, and you feel like you can breath again. 

his eyes are still sparkling, little stars colliding here and there, his smile breathtaking - 

all that you can think of is that you've already fallen too hard to get out, even if you wanted to.

~

you're happy. 

that's kind of foreign to you now, isn't it?

the past seems to come in waves, little things striking your memory.

right now it's a picture of when you and youngjae had just met, his insistent need to take a selca overpassing your need to go and take a shower. 

the photo is bent slightly at the corners from sitting in the photo album for so long, being looked over so often, being bypassed for other's to be added to the back of the book.

you smile softly, as the feelings of nostalgia hit you. 

you know that it's only been about two years since this picture was taken. yet, for some reason, simply looking at the memories that you used to share make you want to burst out into tears. 

happy or sad tears, you're not quite sure.

you're leaning more towards sad, at the moment.

you wish that things were still the same.

 

~

mark is still out. 

your phone is off. you stopped caring after a while, and shut it down after not hearing anything from him for a couple of hours.

(now that's a lie, and you know it. the other member's do, too. you care too much. push away, push away. come on, you can manage that, right?)

you put the photo album away, rubbing your eyes firmly, determined to get the unshed tears out of your eyes sockets. 

you figure that being with the other's will help you. you need them. they need you. no matter how tough things may get, and no matter how much all of you may yell at each other, everyone in the small family that you guys have managed still need each other.

pushing the door open, you stand in the hallway for a moment, looking into the mirror, running your hands through your hair. black again. natural. you're not sure if you like it much, anymore, if you're to be honest.

you then proceed to the kitchen, where bambam and jaebum are standing near the stove, talking, pouring unknown ingredients into the pot on the burner. 

opening the refrigerator door seems to get their attention, as their conversation stops, jaebum's hands pausing from where he's cutting a spice on the counter. 

you grab a water, and when they look back at you, the refrigerator door then shut, you can't help but feel like they're scrutinizing you. 

the next thing you know you're pulled into a hug, both of them crowding around you, and you're about to ask where yugyeom is, or if youngjae got that game to start working that he took hours to set up, or oh, if jinyoung possibly got that - 

you feel your reserve crumbling. 

you miss the boys. your boys. you want them back. 

so you pull them closer to you, bambam and jaebum, and you let yourself fall. 

you feel their closeness, can feel their heartbeats on either side of your body. you let the tears cloud your vision, let them pour down your face in the mass that they need to.

if anyone hears the ringing of jaebum's phone on the counter, the contact name popping up 'mark' on the screen, no one mentions it. 

for now it's just you, jaebum, and bambam, and that's all that you need.

you're tired of pretending to be okay. 

you'll be okay.


	6. Façade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one in which jackson breaks the façade.

in some ways, it's better that the group has gone through this.

the members, the seven of you, the brothers that you've made along the way - 

they all teach you different things as you go, as you grow up together.

jaebum has taught you what it's really like to be a leader, what it's like to be stressed out beyond relief but still being able to have fun and be courageous regardless. you've found that even in the darkest of times, jaebum is one of the few people that can pull you out of it, can see right through you even if nothing is seemingly wrong; even if nothing that the others do or say can help your spirit. 

bambam and yugyeom have taught you what it's like to be young and reckless, to be bubbly and bright no matter what the occasion. they've taught you that smiles can mean the world to anyone, that hard work pays off in many ways, and that showing affection does not mean showing weakness. they're like younger brothers that you have never had, and even in the darkest of times, they are one of the only people that can get you to genuinely smile when you are down.

(yugyeom has also taught you what it's like to be a brat, and is a prime example on how not to treat your elders - but it's all in fondness, so you let it slip. for now, anyway).

both jinyoung and youngjae have taught you that being loud does not mean being heard. they've taught you that regardless of what you think about yourself, or about how others see you, you are you, and that is the most important, priceless thing that you can be. 

and mark is - 

well, mark has taught you everything that all of the other members have taught you combined, and much more. maybe in different ways, maybe in a different light, but regardless, he's taught you the most out of all of the boys.

mark's taught you what it's like to be genuinely, infatuatedly in love; what it's like to be cuddled around someone in the cold, feeling their heart beat against yours, the protective hold they have around you to be blissful and frightening at the same time. he's taught you that sometimes love means war, and that sometimes silence is the best solution. he's taught you that relying on someone does not mean giving up your life for them, he's taught you that you're not alone in this world, he's taught you -

(they've all taught you that life doesn't work out the way that you plan it to sometimes, and that friends are a home away from home that you need to keep close to you. after all, if you don't do something to save yourself, then who will?)

these six people, these six that used to be strangers a few years ago, are now the world to you. 

and even with all of the bullshit that's been thrown your direction lately - 

you wouldn't have it any other way.  
~

four, three, two, one...

you step out onto the stage, hearing chants of the crowd, can feel the adrenaline bursting off of you, can feel the light hearted feeling run through your body as you guide your way along with the others down the stage - 

you're at home here. 

on this stage, it doesn't matter who you are. it doesn't matter what you've been through.

it only matters where you are now, and that you've achieved your dream.

you've made it.

you've made it.

~

the title track 'i like you' starts up in the background of the stage, and as the crowd gets louder and louder as the music goes on, your body picks up on the cheorgraphy as if it's a second nature to you - 

which, you suppose it is. late nights and early mornings in the studio pay off, and have to, because the industry is clawing at anything that they can take, and you all need to be on your best behavior, on your best manners, on your best leveled head at all times.

there is no time for mistakes. 

but as you're maneuvering your way through jaebum and jinyoung, your eyes start to latch onto a seemingly firm body, one that falls down onto the hard, cold ground as you stutter and stare at shock at what just happened. 

you're used to falling. everyone does, at some point. but this, this is not usual.

the music doesn't stop, but you do. you walk forward, forgetting the next couple of steps (they can yell at you all that they want later, you're doing this for him. for you. for all of you.)

the air around you stills, and you can tell that the others have caught along to what is happening. six bodies surround the other, less awake, more damaged member, and as you help lift him off of the ground, you feel your heart shatter in your hands.

mark feels like barely anything. his weight seemed to have dropped previously, and all signs showed towards being concerned but - with the damn schedule, and with how distant the two of you have been lately, you haven't bothered asking him about it. 

how could you be so stupid?

this isn't the time for being self depreciative. mark is all that matters, and as the six of you rush him into the backstage and the manager calls for a paramedic, all that you can do is blame it on yourself.

if you would've been paying more attention, then -

if you would've actually asked like a good friend does, then - 

if you would've listened while you had the chance to, then -

stop. 

your gaze fixates on the door that mark has just been pushed through. an iv stuck in his right arm, a breathing mask covering half of his beautiful, tear stained face (why couldn't you've just asked, shown more concern, my god), his eyes closed half way, his hair matted to his forehead -

all that you can do is sit, and wait.

~

and waiting you do. 

it takes about three hours for the doctors to make it back into the waiting room - three hours of complete nothingness, of feeling like your world has dropped out from below your feet (which yes, you know how dramatic that sounds. but mark is your world, and if he falls, then you follow shortly behind).

it's three hours of cluelessness, of being thrown into hugs with the other members, being locked in all of them all at once; you don't mind. they're there for you, and you're there for them, and that's all that you need to say in this situation. 

it's three hours of helplessness, of hoping that mark is okay, hoping that this won't be the end of you, the end of him, the end of got7.

the words are blurring together, but you hear 'mark' and 'okay', and you feel the blood circulating through your body again, can feel the pressure lifted off your shoulders, and suddenly - you can breathe.

the next thing that you know, you're all in mark's hospital room.

you take one look at him, and decide that you're going to help fix him.

you do not care how long it takes, or how powerless it might seem sometimes - you are going to get him back to the person that he once was.

mark. your mark. 

you feel like bundling him up in blankets, cocooning yourself beside him, and staying there forever. 

jaebum comes back into the room, saying something about 'malnourished', and 'iron levels low', and 'alcohol intake high'.

you don't want to listen.

but you do, because it's mark, and let's face it, you'd do anything for him. you would do anything if it meant to keep him safe and protected, no matter what.

no matter what.

~

a few days later, and you're still sitting in the hospital room. you haven't been there everyday all of the time, as the managers and the members have practically begged and forced you to go home at least once or twice. 

you're alone this time. jaebum, jinyoung, youngjae, bambam and yugyeom have all resorted to staying in the dorm, since it's late, and they were here earlier.

so were you. you've been here, holding mark's hand, watching the way that his stomach falls in and out, hearing the heart monitor continuously 'beep, beep'.

it's informing you that he's still alive. keeping you attached to your life line, in both the best and worst ways.

and when his eyes suddenly open, not by that much but by a twinge of a centimeter, your hand nearly falls out of his.

his gaze lands on you, and you're unsure of yourself again. 

his eyes light up in recognition, of a seeming look of happiness, and you put your hand more firmly in his.

"hyung,"

and his façade just breaks. 

you're not one for formalities and honorifics among the group. you've always been respectful, always been more talk than actual bite, and usually korean is not the language that you naturally fall into when you talk to him - but this time, despite him only being awake for a few seconds, you can see the barely there smile, can see the wound up tears lacing in his eyes, can feel his hand push against yours slightly in a careful brush.

you climb into the bed with him, his body pushed to the side, yours careful not to jostle too much of anything near you. you curl up beside him, hand still in hand, and when he puts his head onto your chest, ever so carefully - 

you feel whole again.


	7. All The Time In The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one in which jackson feels like he has all of the time in the world for things to work out okay.

you're not sure whether to laugh or to cry. you're holding him in your arms, on the bathroom floor of the dorm, blood gushing through your finger tips, and all that you can think is -

i'm losing him. i'm losing the most important thing, my world, and god - 

why didn't you stop him? 

why didn't you pull him aside, force him to stay? 

why are you such a shitty friend?

(self-depreciating has been a word to describe you lately. worn out and torn, and yet all that you can think about is yourself. why can't you stop being so selfish for once?  
why can't you be the person that you were two years ago, so full of light and innocence that nothing could shatter you? why can't you just suck it up, live it up, like you're supposed to?

oh, that's right. life gets in the way. things don't happen the way that you want them to, people get in the way, and this - this is what happens. 

you just never thought that it would happen to yourself.)

you call the paramedics, watch as they take him away. wait until the other boys get home. 

you cacoon yourself in your room, and you don't come out.

~

a week later, and it's almost as if nothing has happened. you're laughing and talking, watching as he shimmies his way into his tattered skinny jeans, throwing an oversized v-neck over his head. 

his hair is blonde again, crisp and light from just being dyed the night previous.

you can still see the scars, little white slits, as he traces them with his other hand, seeming to have forgotten about them in the short span of time that they've been there.

(how do you forget about them? how does someone, who went through so much pain, just forget what they inflicted on themselves? no, he hasn't forgotten.)

maybe you take things too seriously. maybe he's fine, maybe this is all something that can work out by itself. maybe you don't have to be the strong one here. 

(you want so badly to just pull him into your arms, lace your body with his, and keep him there for all of eternity. and in any other universe that isn't this one, you could've done just that.) 

or well, you can in this universe, too. you can when the cameras are away, you can when the other boys are gone, you can when it's late in the dorm and you can feel his thoughts bouncing off of him like they are your own. you can when he's sober. you can when he's too tired to respond to any kind of affection, on the jusitifaction that sleep is one of the most useful things in this mixed up life that you both lead. 

so you can, but you can't. not nearly as often as you want to, anyway.

you're off to some sort of interview, something that all seven of you are attending, and you can hear bambam and jinyoung in the hallway talking about something - can hear jaebum and youngjae laughing about a talkshow, you presume, and you can hear yugyeom join in the conversation, talking to his hyungs in a familar and comforting way.

that's what life is at the moment. familar and comforting.

now, only if it'll stay that way.

it probably won't, but you can hope, right?

you all leave the dorm shortly after, and it feels like you can properly breathe for the first time in months. 

~

you're right. 

it doesn't stay familar and comforting for very long, after that night.

nothing big happens; just a slip of the tongue, a patch of skin too exposed, but it catches the public's attention. 

enough for it go viral in the kpop world the next day.

your manager isn't happy. the members aren't happy. mark certainly isn't happy, but nonetheless, there was nothing that he could do about what was already done.

(that's a concept that you've been sinking in and out of a lot lately. you want to fix what's been done, what could've been saved, what could've been helped before it was too far gone. but alas, this isn't a fairytale, and you certainly are not a princess in need of a prince.)

got7's twitter is blowing up, multiple people asking about what was seen, what was heard, but you can't bring yourself to actually answer any of the questions asked. none of you can, for that matter.

the other members shy away from the situation, not sure how to respond to the bad publicity that you've gotten lately. your manager says to not respond at all, that it'll blow over in a matter of days, but you doubt that when a week later, there are still questions and theories rolling around the internet.

you've read ideas ranging from the band disbanding soon, to got7 crashing and burning when they've just made it to the top, to this being a publicity stunt to see how the public would react, to mark - 

you don't want to think about it. 

yet you continue to scroll through twitter, through your fan cafe, and you can't help but think that you're just asking to be hurt, you're just asking to be driven insane by your own actions, and you can't find yourself to disagree with your thoughts. 

you lock your phone, throwing it somewhere out of your sight, and decide that that's enough social media for the time being. 

~

"i need help," is what he approaches you with one day, exactly a month from the last accident.

his voice is soft, pleading, almost, and you can smell mint forming in the air between you two - so different from the usual stale and bitter that you're used to.

of course, you're happy that you came to you about this. it doesn't seem like he's been spiraling down lately, but you know that people and desires can change like the flick of a switch.

you'll be damned if you watch him switch back into what he's became to be.

he's not a saint. and he never will be. but if you can help him with this, just once, then that's the least that you can do. 

he made the decision, and it can only go up from there. 

you pull him into your arms, exactly like you wanted to so many times before, forgetting that you're in the main room of the dorm, and that the others can walk in on the two of you at any moment. 

you don't want to think about that. 

you want to think about all of the good things that will come from this, from what you've just heard.

so you do.

you nod, breathe in his scent; still something that reminds you of home, even after all of this time. 

you lace your arms around him, he laces his around you. you pull your hands through his hair, feeling his heartbeat against yours, radiating something of hope, and joy -

from then on, you know that things will be okay. 

~

he gets admitted to the local hospital in seoul three weeks later. it takes a bit of arguing with managment, a lot of planning on how the hell got7 is going to go on for a few months before mark - one of their main vocalists - returns, some talking about how they're going to 'tell' the public where mark suddenly went off to. 

('lie' is basically what their management told them to do, on the last issue mentioned above. and you hate lying to the fans, all seven of you do, not matter what the issue, but some things are better off not known. if they can pull off getting mark to the hospital discreetly, then that's all that they have to do. the clinic will take it from there).

you're so happy that you can cry. but you won't, because you're in a room full of people, and you want to keep your diginity somewhat. or well, as much as you still can, anyway.

so you meerily keep your happiness to yourself, but you're sure that the others can tell how elated you are that mark finally asked for help rather than being forced to get help like all of you thought this was going to result into.

you're all elated. the room is the lightest that it's been in a while, with the current six of you together, and you're ridiculously thankful that the group is still in tact. 

and you know that relapse is a thing that happens eventually more often than not, and that he won't come back just magically 'fixed', nor will he come back exactly as he was before this all started. 

you know that the group won't immediately make up, no matter how well you're getting along at the moment. things like this aren't forgiven immediately, it takes time.

(you feel like you have all the time in the world).


	8. You Wouldn't Change A Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one in which jackson realizes he wouldn't change any of this for the world.

you probably haven't considered the part where this would actually get better, and would drastically change your life for forever. did you consider this? no, you did not. 

and it's not like. like you haven't thought about it, you have, but it's like this beconing of light that just pours itself onto you, onto your existence, something that you've wanted for so long - and you just.

you feel happy. 

genuinely, honestly, sincerely happy - and condsidering that for years you haven't been able to say that, well.

that says a lot, in itself.

~

the group's dynamic isn't the same. hasn't been for months, whether mark was around or not, and you find yourself wondering when everything changed so much with (and without) you noticing, at the same time.

it's kind of like seeing someone that you haven't seen for years. you know their name, their general appearence, maybe you've heard something from someone else pertaining to that person.

but you don't actually know them. you like to think that you do, like to be able to add to the list of the people who know and somewhat care about your existance - 

but it's like looking at a blank page, in the end. 

like trying to relearn someone that you've never met.

this is the group that you were brought into, and you love them all the same.

no matter what.

~

the public takes the news terribly, as expected. there are mulitple theories as to where mark actually is, and what is going to happen to the future of got7, despite the many lies that you've all spitted out in spite of yourself, and in benefit of your company, your career. 

the facility has said that he should only be there for a few months, tops - depending on his behavior, his coping skills, his medication, his therapy. 

you can't say that you're unhappy with the decision, because no, you're not. you're above the moon that he's there, getting help, and that mark - your mark - will be back to you soon. 

but when you're laying there, room pitch black, the covers piled over your head, hugging a pillow so tightly that it feels like your body will cease to the bottom of the earth - 

you find yourself only wishing that he was here, beside you.

~

you still remember the day after mark left.

everyone was going on as usual, the laughter and joking going on between members, the loud remarks from the maknaes coursing through the room with the hyungs yells shortly following behind. 

none of you were sure of whether to speak about it. about what happened. it was peaceful, a mutual decision made by all of you, you won't deny; but didn't it hurt like hell to have someone so close to you being so far away.

so close yet so far, something that you've always dreaded. 

the members had all hugged each other tight the night before, whispering acts of encouragement, promises laced in the comfort of arms, breathing, heart beats of seven.   
before the night had ended, mark had pulled you to him, breathing you in like he wouldn't see you for years. and after being with each other for so long, consistently, just a few months away from each other would feel like years, you were sure of it. 

he kissed you with relief, a sweet tenderness that you hadn't felt since the first kiss that you had both shared years ago. and you don't want this to come off as if you weren't happy in the relationship (if it could be called a relationship - neither of you were ever very keen on labels). 

you were, majorly happy. 

there was just something else always there, lurking in the shadows. something that told you, deep down, that this, whatever it was, wasn't a good idea; wasn't going to be healthy for either of you. 

which, in hindsight, you were right.

it wasn't healthy for either of you.

but, hey. 

he loved you, and you loved him. 

he loves you, and you love him.

and isn't that the most important thing of all?

~

you remember when you first met him.

the first meeting had consisted of stumbling of words, shy glances, bows so low that you could nearly touch the floor. 

he looked at you, and you looked at him.

he was older than you, held the high and mighty age force that neither of you followed for that long with each other. didn't seem necessary when just two nights later it seemed like you knew each other for your whole lives. 

already too comfortable. 

always too comfortable. 

you remember looking at him, and seeing a star immediately. just something about him - the way that he held himself, the way that he spoke, the way that he seemed so at home, the way that his eyes seemed to light up, sprinkled with star dust - 

and you knew, you just knew, that upon meeting him - no matter what happened within the group, whether you debuted or not - that your life had changed forever. 

looking at him now, you realize that you still feel the same way about him that you did when you first met, all those years ago. 

~

you remember when he came back to you. 

it was about a month after expected, due to a few setbacks - that you were expecting, if you were to be completely honest. 'stubborn' might also be a word to describe him, but you didn't say anything, if asked about it.

you didn't care.   
when he came back, smile wide, suitcase near his feet, soft padded jacket laced around his body, loose fitted jeans attached to his lithe and healthy muscled body - you can't help but run up to him, nearly throwing yourself into his arms.

and you would've, if bambam wasn't just on your tail. 

you both crash into him, the other four following close behind, soft laughter chasing after your actions. 

you can just hear the smirks that are on all of their faces, can just hear the teasing from here. 

that doesn't bother you though. 

soon enough you're all wrapped around him, seven bodies crushed together, maybe a few tears added in their somewhere, who knows.

(you know. there were).

~

you're both lying in bed, fingers laced together between your torsos, legs intertwined, foreheads pressed together against the soft ridden pillow. 

you're talking in hushed whispers, as it's late in the morning, and you both know that you need rest if tomorrow is going to be a good schedule day. 

you pull him to you, for once. you bring him closer, press your dry lips flush against his plump ones, and the feeling that spreads through you is something that you haven't experienced nearly enough of since he's been home. 

you both stay like that for a moment, but it doesn't go any further.

it's too early, yet too late, to go any further.

and when you pull away, feeling like your body is cascaded in fire, burning your soul, making something beautiful out of a wrecked being -

and when you see his eyes light up with that childish mirth that you haven't seen in years, that happiness that you always knew was there but never quite could get him back to -

you know that this life, this complicated mess, is exactly where you're meant to be, what you're meant to go through.

and that you wouldn't trade it (or him - any of them) for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please let me know in the comments what you think about the story so far. Thanks again!


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